Sympathy for the Devil
by mveloc
Summary: You see, the only way you can ever truly own someone is if their existence becomes intrinsically linked to your own. When you become necessary to them, as necessary as the air they breathe or the blood they bleed, when you become completely inescapable to them, that's when they become yours. ProPunk


I was standing in my office, absently staring out the window when I first heard the news. After my encounter with her at the DYAD gala, I found my thoughts always drifting back to the anomalous creature. The side of my face still bore her mark, a hue of light purples that I wore as a reminder of my own folly, of her volatility. The sound of her gun still rang in my ears and shook me almost as much as the memory of her weight on mine, pinning me helpless beneath her. It was a feeling I had never experienced before and it evoked something in me I had been unaware of prior to that evening.

I heard a gentle rapping at the door and I didn't need to turn around to know exactly who it was. He pushed the door open, letting himself in and he took a few steps forward before halting at a safe distance behind me.

"What is it, Daniel?" I asked, my steely eyes still focused on my reflection in the window.

"We got her."

I whipped around perhaps too eagerly, unable to conceal both my surprise and delight at the news which manifested itself into a tight-lipped grin. It was the second time I had lost my composure in as many weeks. She seemed to have that effect on me.

"Where is she now?" I asked.

"In one of our sub-level units," he replied. "She's been a little uncooperative, as you can imagine."

"Of course. I expected nothing less."

Her wildness was what made the entire pursuit worthwhile. Sure, my first priority was to DYAD, to bringing her in for the purpose of Leekie's research, but I would be lying if I said my own agenda wasn't slowly being pushed to the forefront. I found myself needing to know everything about her.

Well, perhaps not everything.

I needed to know what it was that I saw in her eyes as she held that gun pressed to my head. I needed to know what set her apart from the rest of us and yet, how I was still able to recognize something inside of her. I needed to know what that raw, explosive, unpredictable energy was. I longed to be the one to snap a collar around her neck and force her to heel, to harness that energy of hers and make it my very own. You see, that's how I've come to relate to the world; by seizing control of the things which oppose me, the things which I don't understand, and making them a part of me. Even though she was, perhaps, my greatest confound, the one thing I was certain of above all else was that we were, in fact, of each other. I'm not sure if she knew this, but she would learn it soon enough.

"Take me to her," I instructed Daniel.

"I'm not sure if that's such a good idea, ma'am-"

"I said take me to her. Now."

_Take me to my great prize._

* * *

When I entered the room there was a large, burley man standing on the other side of the door. He appeared to be cut from granite, his face perfect and angular aside from the nose which was swollen and had a slight bend to it. Freshly broken. My trademark smirk returned.

"Leave us."

Upon hearing my voice, she spun herself around to face me. Murder flashed in her eyes and she lunged towards me, only to be stopped prematurely. The cuffs around her wrists limited her movement, as did the device which wrapped around her waist and kept her chained to the wall on the far side of the room. She wasn't allowed more than a couple of feet of distance and she struggled vigorously against her bonds in her attempt to reach me. I could hear a low growl of anger and frustration and pure _desperation _that rose from the pit of her stomach and radiated from the bottom of her throat, filling the room in junction with the rattle, clashing, clanging of chains. It was the sound of a cornered beast, ready to fight for her life.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Duncan, but-"

I gave the granite man my best cut eye and he immediately stopped speaking, swallowing his words which had formed a painful ball in his throat. It didn't matter that he had an entire foot and a hundred pounds on me, I could still reduce him to a pile of trembling bones. I had this effect on most everybody, aside from the proud tigress that struggled and snarled a few feet away.

She would learn his reaction in time.

"I-I'll be right outside, on the other side of the door."

I nodded, my eyes maintaining their dangerous stare with my counterpart, waiting until I heard the door click shut behind me before I started my slow advance.

"Hello, Sarah."

I was careful not to get too close too quickly; she was a beast in chains but still a beast, nonetheless. We both took the opportunity to size each other up, her eyes raking over me gluttonously and I could feel them on my skin, hot and heavy. I took note of her busted lip and the purple ring around her left eye. There was still some dried blood on the corner of her mouth, as well as a cut on her forehead. Daniel had warned me that she had not come easy and as I surveyed the damage, I couldn't help but feel impressed. She'd taken quite a beating but was still so full of strength, still so willing to fight.

"This would have been much easier if you had just come willingly."

"What do you want from me, you bitch?" she spat through gritted teeth.

"What I want from you is very simple."

I encircled her and she stood in a defensive stance, her eyes never leaving my form.

"You see, Sarah, you're an invaluable asset. What I want is your cooperation so that DYAD can further its research. If you cooperate, not only will I keep you comfortable, but I promise you that Kira will be safe, as well."

Hearing her daughter's name struck a chord within her and she abandoned her defensive posture, standing up a little straighter. I offered her a calculated smile and took a step closer. She stayed right where she was.

"Out of all of us, you're the only one who's been able to conceive," I began.

I took another step forward.

"As you may or may not know, Kira's existence is... anomalous. We simply want to know how she came into being. If you help us find the answer, everything will be fine."

One more step.

"What? You want me to give you the whole birds and the bees spiel?"

I deflected her insolent comment and continued my advancement.

"When a man and woman love each other, or when the woman's just some dumb kid who's drunk out of her mind and messing around with the wrong guy-"

"That's enough," I stopped her.

I took one last step and stopped an arm's length away from her. I extended an open hand towards her and she stared at it in disgust.

"Do we have an agreement?"

She lunged at me and it all happened so fast, I didn't know what was happening until I felt the chain of her cuffs wrap around my neck, squeezing and choking and sucking the breath out of me. I struggled against her, my hands grabbing at her wrists in a desperate attempt to break free, but to no avail. My eyes were wide with surprise and terror and as she pulled more aggressively, she leaned in a little closer, catching my gaze. As life slowly faded from my eyes, it transferred into hers with a flickering of her irises, a dilation of her pupils. Her face was so close to mine, our lips were nearly touching and I felt her breath as it was expelled in puffs of hot fury.

Our closeness was interrupted by a rough hand that grabbed at her hair, pulling her back. She yelped, releasing my neck from her grasp as the guard from earlier continued to pull harder until he slammed her up against the wall. There was another man in the room, as well, helping me to my feet as I gasped for air, clutching my throat and staring wide-eyed as my savior delivered a brutal kick to her stomach. It was followed by another, then another.

"That's enough!" I shouted, my voice hoarse and painful.

He was ready to strike her again but my voice stopped him. He turned around to face me, a questioning look in his eyes.

"This dirty little grifter tried to-"

"I need her alive and unharmed, you idiot! And I need her to cooperate! Don't lay a hand on her again!"

I think my words puzzled her as much as they did the two men in the room with us, as she shot me a look of bemusement through the heavy haze of pain. She was curled up in a pile on the floor against the wall, whimpering and grunting and gasping for air, having trouble catching her breath. She didn't seem like a tiger to me anymore, more like a wounded house cat who had dragged herself under the porch to lick her wounds in silence.

It took me a minute to regain my composure. I brushed a few strands of hair out of my face and straightened my blazer before I approached her again. I stopped a mere foot in front of her, surely close enough for her to get back on her feet and attack me again, but she didn't. She just looked up at me through hooded lids, blinking back tears. My gaze was cold and penetrating as I stared down, towering over her.

"Are you alright?"

Even though it was a question stemming from concern, my voice did nothing to indicate this as I maintained my cool tone. She didn't answer me, instead opting to press her head to the floor, probably to escape my gaze. I crouched down so we were level, reaching forward to catch her chin with my index finger. I tilted her head up so she would meet my gaze, but she quickly recoiled as if my touch had burned her. I reached into my pocket, retrieving a handkerchief as I wiped at the corner of her mouth, removing the blood that was previously there. Every eye in the room was on me as I did this.

"They won't hurt you again, so long as you keep your hands to yourself. Do you understand me, Sarah?"

She didn't reply. She didn't even nod her head. Still, I knew by the look in her eyes that she understood me. It was the first time, perhaps, the two of us were able to understand each other.

* * *

I remember our first time well.

It came after a couple of months in captivity. She was still so wild then, so full of anger and defiance. She still is, but hers is a quiet rage now, one that has settled beneath the surface, mirroring my own. In the beginning she was all flash and fire; there was snarling and the rattling of chains, the scent of blood in the air that intoxicated the both of us.

Aside from the doctors, I was her only visitor. She never perked up when she heard the familiar sound of my heels clicking on the ground or the sound of my voice, but I knew that she was growing to anticipate my arrival. I was the only one who didn't stick her with needles, who didn't pin her down and invade her completely.

No.

My invasion was much more subtle.

I was patient with her, like a parent with an unruly child; there were times when I longed to punish her, but I knew that if I wanted my victory, I first needed her trust. You see, the only way you can ever truly own someone is if their existence becomes intrinsically linked to your own. When you become necessary to them, as necessary as the air they breathe or the blood they bleed, when you become completely _inescapable _to them, that's when they become yours. However, the only way to reach this state, I have learned, is through trust. You can try to push and poke and prod your way in, but you'll never have all of them, not really. That only comes when they open the door themselves and invite you in.

I needed her to open her door, to grant me entry. Once I was inside, I could lay siege from within. My takeover would be total, my control complete. That was when I'd have my victory; when she realized just how much she needed me.

"If it isn't the empress Cleopatra herself," I heard her mumble as I opened the door and entered her quarters.

She was sitting in one of the black leather armchairs, absentmindedly flipping through a magazine while watching me over top of the pages.

"I hear you're finally beginning to adjust. That's good."

She scoffed at my comment.

She was no longer subject to cuffs and chains. For the first little while, she tried to attack anyone who came within her range, but she learned that such restriction was painful; the cuffs left ribbons of raw and bleeding flesh around her wrists and the chain around her waist left her bruised and aching, all the result of her pulling too tightly against them. As soon as some of her initial fire had quelled, I instructed that her restraints be removed as my first gesture of good will. My gamble was rewarded when she didn't immediately lash out at me or any of the doctors. I simply reminded her that if she continued to behave like a wild animal, I'd throw her in an even smaller cage, one that was far less comfortable.

She heeded my threat.

I bought even more of her trust when I had her transferred to another unit. It was still sub-level, in a completely isolated wing of the institute. Even if she did somehow manage to escape the confines of her quarters, she wouldn't make it very far until she was recaptured by one of the many guards that were positioned throughout. The unit was much nicer than the previous one, with a more homey feel; she had her own bathroom, a large and comfortable bed, even a television to entertain herself. It was more similar to a hotel room than a prison cell, furthering the illusion that she wasn't DYAD's prisoner, that she wasn't my new pet.

"I brought you a gift, Sarah."

I reached into my bag, retrieving a bottle of bourbon that immediately caught her eye. She tried to feign disinterest, but I knew it must have been a long while since she had had a drink and since she was my genetic identical, I knew that must have been particularly hard for her. I reached into one of her cupboards, looking for two glasses but instead I found only one. Shrugging, I opened the bottle and poured it into the glass, then turned to face her yet again. She was watching me very carefully, her eyes eventually settling on the glass. Instead of offering it to her, I brought it to my lips.

I always came first.

She watched me drink with a strange mix of contempt and intrigue, waiting for me to finish. Then I poured another glass, this time extending it towards her. I made her come to me, our fingers gently brushing as she retrieved the glass from my grasp. She threw her head back and downed it quickly, handing the empty glass back to me so I could refill it. I smirked at her eagerness but obliged, filling the glass once again and handing it back. We went back and forth like that, her drinking two glasses to every one of mine, until the bottle was two-thirds empty. We settled ourselves in the leather armchairs adjacent to each other, much like old friends enjoying a drink and some casual conversation, only there was no conversation to be had. We did't say a single word to each other, we simply drank and observed.

"I brought something else for you, as well."

I stood up and ventured back to my bag, reaching in and finding a beige folder. She arched an eyebrow at me as I walked back over to her, stopping right in front of her. I handed her the folder and crossed my arms over my chest, hovering as she flipped it open. Her eyes immediately welled up with tears.

"I thought you would want to know that she's well," I explained.

She ran her fingers over the child's face in the pictures. The date stamp on each one told her that they were all recent and for the first time, she doesn't seem so beastly to me. She's very much human and it unnerves me how aware of this I am.

"So long as we have your continued cooperation, I can promise you that Kira will remain safe. You have my word."

She nodded quietly in understanding.

_Checkmate._

I had no obligation to give her the photos, no obligation to hire the man who took them, who always remained in the child's orbit just out of sight, watching over her at my instruction. Doing so secured her trust in me, at least, as much trust as someone so guarded was able to give.

"Can I...?"

She didn't need to finish her question, I already knew what she was going to ask. The fact that she found the need to ask my permission brought a smile to my face and I nodded.

"Keep them."

She smiled for the first time since her capture. She thought she was being covert, hiding her face behind her mess of hair the file of photographs, but I was still able to catch it. It stirred something inside of me in a way I had not expected and I felt panic creep into my chest, unsure of how to deal with the feeling.

I decided that it was time to take my leave.

I turned my back on her and walked towards the door, but her grip on my arm stopped me, causing my entire body to lock up in fear. The last time she had lay hands on me, she nearly killed me and even though we were in a contained environment, my body couldn't help but react in such a way.

She spun me around roughly and I expected her hands to go to my throat once again, but instead her lips were on me, hard and demanding. Her hands were in my hair and I stumbled backwards, unprepared for the full weight of her crashing into me. When I finally regained my bearings, I returned her kiss, my tongue meeting hers in a duel for control. My hands grabbed at the collar of her shirt, pulling her even closer, providing even greater leverage and allowing me to give as good as I was getting.

It hadn't dawned on me until that very moment just how much I had wanted it, how much I had been waiting for it, how the entire game that I was playing was leading up to that very moment. I was able to overlook the taboo; yes, she was my genetic identical, but there was something living deep inside of her that matched the creature that lurked within me. I knew it the second I lay eyes on her and I could feel it stronger than ever then, an undeniable connection. That's how I knew it couldn't have been wrong.

It was meant to happen.

Inevitable, really.

Her hands went to the button of my pants, popping it open and sliding in. I grabbed her wrists, stopping her before she could continue. It was one last vie for dominance, one I would not grant her. I removed her hands and pushed her back until we reached the bed. I forced her into a sitting position and straddled her lap, our lips parting for an instant so I could pull the shirt over her head and toss it somewhere behind me. Before our lips met again I caught her gaze.

Electricity.

It coursed through the both of us and for the first time, I could actually feel my heart beating, hear it slamming in my ears, making me hyperaware of my own mortality. It was as if I hadn't been living prior to the moment her lips crashed against mine. Now that I could taste it, it was a high that I desperately craved.

I fiended for her lips.

They found my neck, biting hard and causing me to cry out in a mixture of pain and pleasure. We tore the clothing from each other as if it were aflame, burning us alive. I pushed her back until she lay flat on the mattress, looking up at me with dark eyes and a heaving chest.

I saw the creature yet again.

I dragged my nails down her torso, clawing at her skin, trying to peel it back and rip it out so I could hold it in my hands. She moaned loudly and bucked her hips against mine, goading me on.

We were not gentle or graceful.

It took us a few encounters before we acquired the grace, the knowledge of where our hands were needed most, before we learned each other's rhythms. That first time was jagged and forceful and nothing short of an exorcism that both of us weren't even aware we needed. We came together, our bodies quaking violently against each other as all of the hatred and aggression slowly seeped away, leaving the both of us behind.

There's no pillow talk, no coyness or cuddles. I simply slip back into my clothes and straighten myself out. After our third time, I learned to bring my makeup with me, as our encounters always left my mascara streaky, my lipstick smudged and a constellation of mouth-shaped stars along my neck. As I reapplied my face, she always lay back in bed and watched me with a silent smirk of her own, one she thought I didn't see in the mirror's reflective surface.

I left her panting in her bed, questioning every decision she'd ever made as I let myself out without a single word. And as I walked down the corridor, passed by the guards, rode the elevator to the very top and continued on my journey back to my office, I made no attempt to hide the smirk that dominated my features.

I had never felt so satiated in my entire life.

* * *

My vision slowly returns to me as I blink away the explosion of stars behind my eyes, panting heavily as if there wasn't enough air in the world left to breathe. My body is weak and trembling, coated in a thin layer of sweat and I descend from the high she had launched me into with just the curl of her fingers and a well-timed tongue. I loosen my grip, releasing fistfuls of sheets and bringing a hand to my head to wipe the sweat from my brow. I feel the weight of the mattress shift and quickly realize that I am now the sole occupant of the bed.

"And where are you going?" I ask, spying her out of the corner of my eye.

She ignores me and stalks across the room, grabbing the bottle of bourbon on the table and bringing it to her lips to take a long swig, despite the fact that there were two glasses to drink from. My lips upturn into their familiar state of smirking, amused by my counterpart's savagery.

"You truly are incorrigible, aren't you?"

She turns to face me, sneering in my direction. I sit up straight and beckon her towards me with a flick of my index finger and she obeys, sliding back into bed with me, bottle still in hand. She extends it towards me and as I reach for it, she quickly withdraws, much to my annoyance; she learned to seize power wherever she could, in tiny moments like these. I'm usually quick to shut her down, but I decide to humor her this time. We remain locked in an intense stare even as she straddles my lap and holds the bottle's mouth to my own, searching me carefully, testing me. If she had been anyone else, I would have forced her to her knees by now and had her begging for mercy, but there is a look in her eyes, an aura about her that is just so damn _intriguing_ that I allow her this gentle push, deciding to play her game. I part my lips and tilt my head back. She tips the bottle, allowing for the amber liquid to slide down my throat. When I'm done, she brings it back to her lips and continues to drink and I watch her, mesmerized.

She rolls off me and scoots to the edge of the bed, placing the almost empty bottle on the nightstand. She runs a hand through her hair and sighs deeply as she hunches over, her head dangling between her legs. I'm not entirely sure what she's thinking or feeling, but my fingers trace the notches in her spine as I try to unravel her, layer by layer.

I know no more about her now than I did on the day she was captured, aside from the fact that she hisses when I drag my nails down her back, or that she rolls her hips with the all the grace and purpose and fluidity of a brook, or that she kisses with her whole body, not just her mouth. I couldn't tell you where she grew up or who her childhood hero was or why she chose the name Kira and not Jane or Nicole or Amanda.

"Aren't you gonna scamper on off now like usual?" she asks, looking over at me.

"Who says I'm finished with you?" I ask.

We fuck again.

I have her on all fours in front of me as I slam myself into her from behind, giving me a most glorious friction. One hand tightly grasps her hip while the other slides around to her front, teasing her clit, thrusting my fingers deep inside of her. I work them in and out at a frenzied pace, twisting and curling every time I withdraw, only to slide them back in as I pound myself into her. Her back arches and she buries her face in a pillow, trying to muffle the low and strangled groans that keep escaping her mouth.

"Pillow queen," I pant, continuing with my ministrations.

I can make out a muffled "fuck you," which only prompts me further.

"That's the idea."

I can tell that she's close and I keep her dangling for as long as I can, easing up every time she's about to fall over. I slow down when she screams for me to speed up, I trace softly when she moans for me to push harder. She eventually grows frustrated and reaches down between her legs, grabbing my wrist and holding it in position as she bucks against my hand.

"Ah, ah, ah," I scold her. "That's cheating."

I reach forward, grabbing a fistful of her hair right at the roots, forcing her up and backwards until she's on her knees, her back pressed firmly against my front. My one hand continues to torture her wetness and the other maintains its grip on her hair, holding her in position. I bring my lips to her ear.

"Say it."

She bites down hard on her bottom lip, stifling the words that are bubbling in her throat. I smirk as she attempts to defy me, but I know she won't last very long; her legs are shaking and she's growing even tighter around my fingers.

"Say it," I repeat.

My hand releases her hair, sliding down her back, under her arm, reaching around in front for her breast. I squeeze and massage and roll her nipple between my fingers. I trail hot kisses down the side of her neck before I bite down hard and she yelps.

"_Please!_"

I smirk, but I do not reward her. She knows better by now; I don't give credit for unfinished work. My fingers trace circles around her opening and my tongue traces the shell of her ear as I wait for her to finish.

She knows the words.

I've made a point of teaching them to her.

They're bitter on her tongue and she nearly chokes on them every time they're uttered. I know she's never said them to anyone else, which is why I demand them; she'll give them to me, give me that part of herself that no one else possesses. I've grown to feel entitled to it.

"_I need you_!"

I send her spiraling.

She collapses on the bed, her face buried in the pillow, but she's quick to roll herself over onto her back. I lay down next to her and watch her closely, taking in her features; her parted lips, her closed lids, the sweat that drips down her temple in beads. I can't take my eyes off her and I reach for her, snaking my arm around her torso and pulling her into me. I bury my face in the crook of her neck and sigh. I know she's still lost in the aftermath of her orgasm because she's very still, focusing all of her energy on catching her breath and coming back down to Earth, not pushing me away. After a few minutes, she's finally back with me.

"What the hell are you doing?"

I ignore her question and press a kiss to her neck. She squirms out of my grasp and leaves the bed in a hurry, crossing her arms over her chest as she stares me down.

"Be quiet and come back to bed," I command her.

"Piss off."

She catches me off guard and I sit up, glaring at her.

"I don't think you understand your situation," I reply.

My voice is heavy and hard, a warning of the danger to come if she continues down her current path. She's always been impetuous and defiant, but in the months since we've become lovers (?) she's learned not to goad me, that it never ends well for her.

"I'm all you have now. _You need me_, remember?"

She laughs.

I realize that in all this time, I've never heard her laugh, not really. But she's laughing now, a deep roaring that makes me uneasy. It reminds me of a time when I was much younger, just a girl at boarding school. It reminds me of the laughter of the other girls as they danced and sang and played and I watched from the sidelines, a stranger to their world. I was never one of them, but Leekie told me that it was fine because I was so much more. Only I didn't want to be more. I just wanted to be able to laugh like them.

"Is that right?"

I pull the sheets up to cover myself.

"You could be out there," she begins, gesturing towards the sky, "With anyone you wanted. Instead you're down here with me. You know why?"

"Watch yourself."

"Because nobody else wants you, Rachel! _I_ don't even want you, but I fuck you good enough to make you forget that! _You_ want _me! You_ need _me_! You're down here, fucking your bloody clone because it's the closest you can feel to another human being! The sad thing is, I'm just a copy of you!"

I'm the tiger now, snarling and rattling my chains.

I quickly scoop my clothes up off the floor and pull them back on as she stands in the corner, drinking from the bottle of bourbon and watching me intently. Strangely enough, there is no look of victory in her eyes like I would expect.

We must be playing a different game.

"Don't expect my company any more," I tell her, stalking over to the door.

As I open it to leave, I try my best to ignore her completely, but my ears have grown so accustomed to her voice, it's like they've been trained to hear it, to pick it out in a sea of noise.

"Yeah. Sure thing," she says, her voice thick with sarcasm.

As I walk down the corridor, passing by the guards, riding the elevator to the very top and continuing on my journey back to my office, I realize my great folly. She hadn't opened her door to me at all- I had opened mine to her. She had gotten inside of me, become necessary to me, like the air I breathe or the blood I bleed. She had become _inescapable _to me.

I had become hers.

The next day, I wear the finest dress in my closet. I wear my favourite shade of lipstick and go to the liquor store nearest to my condo as soon as it opens. I find the most expensive bottle of bourbon they sell (it'll do nicely). It burns a hole in my bag as I journey from my office, continuing to the elevator, riding it to the very bottom, passing by the guards and down the corridor which had become home. I stop in front of the which door I'm too familiar with, straightening my dress and hair, checking my appearance in the mirror of my compact, exhaling deeply.

This time, I knock.


End file.
